Chapter 3: You’re the Protagonist of This Book

An Luo and Meieruita stared at each other from a distance.

The gloomy protagonist coldly fixed his gaze on An Luo. An Luo let him scrutinize as much as he wanted, even though his heart raced like a wild horse. On his face, he maintained a calm and composed smile, as if everything was firmly under his control.

After a moment, Meieruita confirmed that the person before him was not the same as Lan Lian.

Though their appearances were identical, the tone of speech, the overall demeanor, and certain subtle qualities that Meieruita couldn’t quite pinpoint were vastly different from the original Lan Lian.

It wasn’t impossible that it was a disguise, but Lan Lian had no reason to do such a thing.

But shouldn’t Lan Lian have already…

The wariness in his gaze toward An Luo deepened.

An existence capable of directly taking over someone else’s body was even more terrifying and threatening than the original Lan Lian.

“Meieruita,” An Luo said flatly. “An orphan with no one to rely on, seemingly on the verge of death, constantly bullied. Before entering the Wizard Tower, you appeared to do nothing but daydream, utterly lost in those trashy knight novels. But in reality, you had no interest in the plots of those knight novels. Daydreaming was just a facade you put on. Your true goal was to learn to read and write.”

Lowly servants had no means or right to learn literacy, but Meieruita knew full well that mastering reading and writing was the only way to climb higher.

Even so, he absolutely could not show any ambition, or the other servants around him would target him, or even report him to their master, making him pay the price for his “overreach.”

Thus, Meieruita began his disguise, pretending to be hopelessly addicted to those trashy knight novels. He even spent his meager earnings to have someone read them to him, acting as if he spent his days lost in a daze, becoming a laughingstock in the eyes of the other servants.

He laid the groundwork thoroughly, using his saved money to buy a poorly printed knight novel.

From others’ perspectives, Meieruita couldn’t read at all. Buying the book was just for daydreaming over its pages—fantasizing about becoming a knight, having grand adventures, and marrying a noble lady. It was laughable.

Meieruita’s disguise only reinforced their assumptions.

Just when everyone had grown accustomed to it, Meieruita quietly learned to read and write under the cover of that disguise.

“Meieruita, did you really think you’d become a knight?” An Luo continued in a storytelling tone. “The other servants mocked your daydreams, treating you like a delusional madman, pitying you just a little.”

“But no one knew that you didn’t want to become a knight at all. You had no interest in the stories. The only thing you cared about was those words.”

“You didn’t care how others saw you. You devoured knowledge hungrily. Unlike those dazed servants, you resolved to change your fate.”

Amid Meieruita’s stunned gaze and even colder, more guarded expression, An Luo pressed on:

“You finally got your chance. One day, a wizard apprentice came to collect new recruits for his master, and you happened to have decent talent. Without hesitation, under the venomous glare of the family’s young master, you resolutely joined the Wizard Tower and became a new wizard apprentice.”

“And so, the story began.”

An Luo looked at the protagonist. By now, Meieruita had masked his disgust and wariness, appearing perfectly calm, even with a hint of deference.

“Do you want to know anything else?” An Luo asked with a light chuckle. “I can tell you everything.”

“What do you want?”

Meieruita sidestepped the question. He lowered his eyes, seemingly respectfully, and said, “What can I do for you?”

Born of humble origins, Meieruita understood perfectly the art of reading the situation. When one was still weak, clashing head-on with others was the height of folly.

An Luo breathed a sigh of relief.

He didn’t mind the protagonist’s attitude much, but the most crucial part—distancing himself from the original Lan Lian—was done.

Next, he needed to make the protagonist either hesitate to act out of fear or refrain due to self-interest.

An Luo had considered bluffing, making the protagonist think he was a powerhouse and thus too dangerous to attack rashly.

But after careful thought, he rejected the idea.

He wasn’t truly powerful, and at the end of the day, though he was the author and seemed to know much about this world, he was still a modern man. His mindset fundamentally differed from this world’s.

In plain terms, he was even inferior to Lan Lian, that cannon fodder.

Bluffing might work temporarily and make the protagonist wary, but over time, he’d see through An Luo’s facade.

Then, when he struck, An Luo would be defenseless.

So, no deception. The protagonist had to know An Luo was currently weak.

But if the protagonist knew he was no threat, he’d surely kill him. So, he needed to offer irresistible benefits.

“Don’t be so tense,” An Luo said, relaxing a bit. “I pose no threat to you.”

“I come from another world, completely different from this one,” An Luo explained. “I didn’t come here willingly. Honestly, I don’t even know why.”

He spread his hands. “I’m even weaker than the original Lan Lian.”

Meieruita listened to An Luo’s words without a flicker of change in his expression, nor did he ask any questions.

An Luo knew Meieruita didn’t believe him at that moment.

But it didn’t matter.

“You’ve read a lot of knight novels, right?” An Luo said. “This world is no different in essence from those knight novels. I am the author of this book, and you are its protagonist.”

Meieruita gazed at An Luo, his gray-green eyes laced with self-mockery. “Protagonist?”

He had read those knight novels. Though uninterested in their plots, the protagonists were either fallen nobles or princes of fallen kingdoms—always of prestigious birth. Even in ruin, they had helpers and ultimately reclaimed everything.

And what was he?

An orphan with dead parents, a lowly servant who had to disguise himself just to learn letters.

Starving, living day to day, insignificant as a speck of dust.

He was nothing.

Protagonist?

An Luo’s words were too outrageous. Meieruita fell silent for a moment before finally asking, “Then… what is this book called?”

An Luo looked at him and said softly, “Supreme Wizard. This book is called Supreme Wizard.”

“And you, Meieruita—you are the one and only, absolute protagonist. The book’s name is yours.”

“Thank you for the explanation.” Meieruita’s expression remained unchanged, giving no hint of belief or disbelief.

An Luo didn’t mind.

Meieruita wouldn’t be swayed by mere words. To him, such things were empty nonsense.

The only thing that might touch him slightly would be if An Luo offered to kill himself, removing a threat to his survival.

Everything else was illusory.

“This world is very dangerous,” An Luo said bluntly. “You should know why I came here tonight.”

An Luo continued: “Lan Lian schemed against you, forcing you to take an extremely dangerous mission. You nearly died in it, but you also gained by chance the cursed witch tool left behind by the previous apprentice who died on the mission.”

“Lan Lian’s constant harassment annoyed you greatly, so the next day, you used the cursed witch tool without hesitation to eliminate him once and for all.”

Meieruita’s pupils contracted sharply.

He wasn’t yet the mentally ironclad wizard from later in the plot; still a novice, he couldn’t help showing some emotion.

An Luo pressed on: “As I said before, I’m extremely weak right now and have no power to threaten you. If you used the cursed witch tool on me, I’d really die.”

“So I came to find you.”

In the gray-black stone walls of the dormitory, only the flickering candlelight illuminated the space. The flame was small, barely lighting the nearby area.

An Luo kept some distance from Meieruita, knowing not to get too close. His face was indistinct in the candlelight.

The protagonist raised his eyes to look at him, his gray-green eyes restored to calm.

“I know what you’re thinking,” An Luo said. “You’re thinking that since I’m so vulnerable and know your secrets, maybe you should stick to the original plan and kill me.”

“But I can tell you the entire plot of this book,” An Luo offered. “The first major plot point I arranged for you is to kill the master of this tower and take his place. Are you interested in the specific method and process?”

“To show my sincerity, I’ll first tell you the difference between a wizard apprentice and a true wizard. Do you want to hear it?”

Meieruita made his choice quickly. “Please tell me.”

An Luo relaxed inwardly, knowing he’d piqued his interest a little.

He explained: “The difference between a wizard apprentice and a wizard isn’t the number of witchcraft spells mastered or the amount of magic power possessed—it’s evolution. No matter how strong a wizard apprentice is, they’re still human. Wizards, however, transcend humanity, becoming a higher form of life. The stronger the wizard, the higher their life level.”

Meieruita pondered this thoughtfully.

“I can tell you everything you want to know, as long as I know it,” An Luo said. “My demands are simple: don’t attack me, and I guarantee I won’t reveal any of your information to anyone.”

An Luo produced a contract—the original owner had spent a fortune buying it from a veteran wizard apprentice. His next plan had been to hire an assassin against the protagonist, and this contract ensured the deal.

Now, it was perfect for An Luo’s use.

He unfurled the contract, which already had the terms written out, exactly as he had described.

“As long as you agree to sign this contract, I’ll uphold the agreement.”

Meieruita took the contract and lowered his eyes to read it carefully.

Though he had taught himself to read and write through knight novels and surreptitious readings by others— all while staying hidden— he recognized many characters, but his skill level was low, so he read slowly.

Meieruita read it bit by bit, going over it several times to confirm the terms matched An Luo’s words exactly. He looked up at An Luo. “Alright, I’m willing to sign this contract.”

An Luo breathed a sigh of relief.

Though such a low-level contract would be useless once Meieruita became a wizard, it didn’t matter. He had no intention of sticking around the protagonist forever.

First, survive this ordeal.

Meieruita’s desk and chair had been moved to barricade the door, leaving only a narrow bedside table usable. Meieruita placed the contract on it and prepared to sign his name. But just as he was about to, he suddenly fainted without warning.

His body collapsed heavily to the ground with a dull thud.

An Luo: “…?!?!”